The Headmistress Hates Halloween
by Drollittle
Summary: It was an ancient celebration dating back to the time of the Peverell brothers. It was a day when muggles loved magic. It was a day of lighthearted terror, merry morbidity, and other unproductive contradictions. Primarily, it was a nuisance, and this year wouldn't be any better.


Halloween was a nuisance at the best of times.

Halloween was the day when Minerva's favorite painting at Hogwarts (one with candle-holding figures standing silhouetted atop a hill and singing in pure solemn harmony), betrayed her by showing its subjects dancing riotously about a large bonfire. Some stories claimed that All Hallows Eve was the night when Death strolled the earth laying plans, inspiring his murderous pawns and teasing his victims for the coming year. Nonsense. Minerva believed the traditional atmosphere of the day made it attractive to villains and troublemakers as their _diem ad operandum_.

This year, there had not yet been any break ins, murder attempts, or ominous forewarnings of battles to be fought later in the year. Hogwarts had only finished their feast a few hours ago, however, so there was still time for a crisis to arise, and Headmistress Minerva McGonagall kept her grey hair pinned up in case she needed to take action. Even if the castle remained troll-less, she was sure of four things on All Hallow's Eve; Slytherin students would be dabbling in dark magic, older Ravenclaws would be traumatizing younger ones with ghost stories, Gryffindors would be gallivanting around the grounds, and, worst of all, Hufflepuffs would be overstuffing themselves with candy.

_Relax_, she told herself. _Stay prepared, but don't get anxious. The dark times are finally over; this year nothing will happen that the heads of houses and other staff can't handle on their own._ Minerva eased into an armchair. She read a few pages of Transfiguration Today.

A flare of orange lit the sky outside her window, answered by a flash of blue. A bolt of white and a shot of red. Two people, perhaps more, were dueling on broomsticks above the forest near Hogsmeade.

In seconds, she stood on her balcony, broomstick in hand. She kicked off and clenched her jaw to keep from shivering in the chilly night air as she flew toward the commotion. This year's eighth year class was housed in Hogsmeade—the girls in the Three Broomsticks and the boys in the Hog's Head. Harry Potter and his year-mates _would_ be at the center of the problem. When she saw that fateful batch of students through graduation, she would breathe easier.

There were only two duelists. Minerva flew just below the tree tops, skirting around the points of the pines to stay hidden.

"Capujack!" shouted a female voice.

_Capujack_? Minerva frowned. That was a silly jinx that second and third years had been using to make each other's heads look like pumpkins. Sure enough, one of the duelists was now sporting a round orange head with grinning, glowing features. The young lady laughed, and Minerva recognized her as Hogwarts' head girl, Ginevra Weasley. That left little doubt that the pumpkin head belonged to—

His head popped back to normal, glasses glinting and hair askew. Potter waved his wand and splattered Weasley with chocolate syrup.

"Tergeo," she said, and then, "spiralis!" which sent Potter's broom spinning, both of them whooping with mirth.

Minerva had gotten out of her armchair for _this_? They were acting like a pair of twitterpainted pixies. She was on the verge of snapping out a rebuke, but she did enjoy watching a good duel, so curiosity made her pause and watch Potter cast another spell.

"Mentha insecti!" Weasley was surrounded by a swarm of peppermint humbugs. She scattered them and wordlessly sent a purple blast at his face. It was a spell Minerva didn't recognize.

Potter paused. "Did that even do anything?"

"You'll see," she teased.

He groaned. "Come on, Ginny!"

"Your bogeys will be purple for a few days."

"Why is it always bogeys? Lignum nasum!"

Weasley's nose grew long and began to branch into many shoots. Then it shrunk back.

"Rictusempra!" Weasley shouted, and Potter gasped with laughter, clinging to his broom with difficulty until she lifted the tickling charm.

"Ack! I almost fell!" he complained.

"I wouldn't let you fall," she said sweetly. They smiled at each other for a moment, then she cast, "Descendo!" His broom lurched downward a few feet, and they were off again.

After a time Potter and Weasley stopped firing jinxes at each other, and were drifting close together on their brooms, catching their breath. They _were_ an impressive couple, both of them so intense, magically and emotionally. They obviously made each other happy, and during this time of grief and healing everyone needed whatever happiness they could find. They were holding hands now, hovering above the trees and talking quietly. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt, just this once, to let them be. This train of thought was quickly halted by Minerva's better sense. She hadn't gained the respect of all Wizarding Britain by dismissing school rules, and after all, this was exactly the sort of situation the curfew was set to prevent.

Potter's and Weasley's faces were only inches apart when Minerva barked, "Potter! Weasley!"

The two startled and caught sight of her. "Professor McGonagall?" Potter asked, "is everything alright?"

She snorted. The little hero thought she had flown out to get his help or deliver bad news.

"What are you two doing out here at night?"

"Just going for a flight, Professor," said Weasley hopefully. "It's such a nice—"

"Detention."

"What?" Potter argued. "We're both of age, Professor. We _can_ be out of the dormitories."

"For a young man who has mastered Death, Potter, you whine very childishly."

Ginny snickered.

"...and even if you are technically allowed out of your dormitories, it was irresponsible to be dueling in the air like that. From the castle the spell-fire looked alarming; so much so that I forfeited much needed rest to come investigate, and robbing the headmistress of sleep in itself warrants a detention."

They apologized and she responded curtly, "You will help Hagrid get rid of a colony of Red Caps on the grounds. The poor man doesn't seem willing to exterminate them—deadly pestilential beasts."

Potter grimaced, but responded, "We'll be happy to help."

"Go back to the Hog's Head, Mr. Potter, and fix your hair before you come in the castle tomorrow."

"Huh?"

"It's yellow."

"Oh!"

Minerva did an about face and began flying back to Hogwarts. Ginevra Weasley followed her and they flew into a courtyard that was near Gryffindor tower.

"If any students are still awake in the Gryffindor common room, will you remind them that classes will be held as usual tomorrow, Miss Weasley?"

"Yes, Professor McGonagall."

"Good. I'm going to check on the Hufflepuffs. I don't entirely trust Professor Sprout where Halloween celebrations are concerned. Good night."


End file.
